


Ragged Roses

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Animated)
Genre: Angst, Batdad, Batfamily Feels, Batfleck - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Set post bvs, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:59:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce returns to the Batcave to find someone unexpected waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ragged Roses

**Author's Note:**

> AU set post BvS. When the trailers first came out I remember being so hopeful we'd finally get a bat family on the big screen, only to be disappointed when the only reference was the robin suit.
> 
> This is a fix-it I guess? Set after the events of the movie because re-writing that would have been a headache. Also I've heard people say this Bruce is what a batman who never had Tim would look like, so in this verse only Dick, Jason, and Babs are going to feature. Maybe if I ever continue this there will be a Tim in Bruce's future

* * *

Bruce trudged down the stairs to the bat cave, still decked out in his funeral attire.

He was glad that for once Alfred wasn't waiting for him, his emotions too fragile for that conversation. He was teetering on the edge, one nudge enough to send him over.

With a ragged breath and trembling fingers he undid his tie and the top buttons of his shirt. He still felt like he couldn't breathe.

Bypassing where the bat suit was kept, he walked to where the enshrined robin suit was stored.

This time he didn't just pause as he walked by it, he moved to stand right in front of it.

Forcing himself to look at the ultimate proof that he was fallible. That he made mistakes.

He reached out, pressing his hand to the glass. Right over where the heart would be if there was anyone left to wear it.

Stepping closer he let his forehead fall to rest against it, the cool glass relieving the pounding behind his eyes.

What would his robins, his sons, think of him if they could see him now? If they knew he'd broken not just some of the rules they lived by, but the one that mattered most?

If they knew he'd come close to turning into exactly what they'd spent years fighting against?

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture?"

Bruce froze, cursing himself. He felt like he'd been in a state of hyper vigilance the last few years, and he couldn't keep it up anymore. He was weary of it, the constant paranoia, and he was bound to slip up at some point. It figured that as soon as it felt safe to lower his guard, he'd been proven wrong.

He didn't need to turn around to know who was standing behind him, the sound of his voice enough.

More than enough now that he knew what to look for.

"Jason."

"Heya bats. Fancy seeing you here," the young man, Jason Todd, snickered at his own wit and Bruce squeezed his eyes shut at the sound. Unable to bring himself, to even remove his forehead from the glass.

Jason prowled closer, "I didn't believe him when he said you had this. I certainly never expected to see any sign that you grieved me."

His voice was rough, the words biting.

Bruce barely contained a fully body flinch, instead masking it in a grimace he knew his son couldn't see at this angle.

The off-hand way Jason assumed he'd never grieved him cut him to the core.

Jason couldn't know, hadn't been aware of Bruce when he'd found his dead and broken body.

Hadn't heard the way Bruce had screamed his rage and grief to the sky. Hadn't seen the way Alfred had had to pry his body from his arms when he made it back to the cave.

Didn't know how close Bruce came to killing that night.

If Joker had been stupid enough to stick around, if he'd been there when Bruce found Jason…

Well Bruce knew his willingness to kill would have started that night and not when Metropolis fell.

And it was because Jason didn't know any of that, that Bruce managed to bite his tongue on the words he wanted to say.

"What do you want?" he asked in their place, impressing even himself at how even his tone was.

Jason scoffed, and he could hear him shift on his feet impatiently.

"I was the only one close that didn't have their own mess to take care of," he drawled in answer, "so I got drafted into checking on you."

Of course, Bruce thought, Jason would have never come of his own volition.

"And since you're standing and not obviously injured…" Jason continued, "My job is done."

So said the younger man moved to leave, and between one beat and the next Bruce couldn't draw even the shallowest of breaths. His chest tighter than it had been even as he lowered Superman's dead body.

Jason was about to walk out of his life, again, and this time he might not come back. There might not be another crisis to draw him back in. Or Bruce may not be there when he came.

"Don't go," he ground out at the last second.

He heard Jason stutter to a stop, his own breathing faltering in his surprise.

"Bruce?" he turned back and asked.

This time Bruce did flinch. Jason hadn't called him Bruce since before his resurrection. He'd called him Batman, Bats, Old Man, even Wayne once, but never Bruce.

It was his use of the name that got Bruce to turn to face him.

Even with his efforts to compose himself, Bruce knew Jason could read his turmoil off his minute facial expressions.

That anyone who knew him well, who was family, would be able to read the distress under the smooth surface.

Jason sucked in a breath, his eyes gentling the barest amount.

He raked an aggravated hand through his hair, the white strands stubbornly falling back into his eyes.

"Damn it," he cursed as he strode closer.

Bruce watched his advance with wary eyes, unable to bring himself to meet him halfway. No matter how much he wanted to. Perhaps because he wanted to. He was very good at denying himself the things he wanted. Unhealthily so.

Jason stopped just within arm's reach, seemingly arguing with himself.

Finally he sighed, "Dick will never let me hear the end of it if I leave you like this."

He reached over to push at his jacket's shoulders. "Come on, off."

Bemused, Bruce shrugged out of the suit jacket, allowing Jason to take it and place it on nearby table.

"Alright you big idiot, let's get some food in you before you fall over. And then bed."

Bruce found himself nodding dumbly, allowing Jason to herd him up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Jason settled him at the bar, one hand lingering on his shoulder before he moved to rifle through the fridge.

Despite knowing this might be his only chance to talk to him, to explain some home truths Jason seemed to have missed, Bruce was mute.

No words rose to his lips, his eyes glued to the figure of his son.

Out of them all, barring Alfred, Jason was the best cook. He had a natural inclination for it. Dick had never been able to sit still long enough, he had a bad habit of turning up the heat in an effort to cook it faster, something that only ended with burnt food.

Asking Barbara to cook was a sure fire way to set her off on a rant that only ended with someone walking out.

Bruce himself could manage a few select dishes, but anything outside his repertoire was asking for trouble.

In short order Jason was placing a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of the kale juice Alfred kept in the fridge in front of him.

Jason hadn't been able to bring himself to sit beside Bruce at the bar and instead leaned against the counter in front of him.

Bruce swallowed, summoning words through sheer power of will.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet.

It wasn't thank you for the food, though he was grateful for that. It was thank you for putting up with him, for continuing despite his silences, despite the things he'd never been able to say, for being his partner and his son.

For being here when Bruce knew he'd probably rather be anywhere else.

It was thank you for all the things he'd never been able to acknowledge before, all the things he should have.

And it was unfairly summed up in two words, words that could never encapsulate everything he meant, and all he could do was hope that Jason could read between the lines. That he understood what he was and wasn't saying.

When Jason didn't react he began to fear he'd miscalculated.

Then---

 

\---Then with a muttered curse Jason shifted to lean over the counter, standing on his tiptoes to loom into Bruce's space.

Understanding where he was going with the move, Bruce leaned over too, pressing their foreheads together with a gentle nudge.

Jason reached over to rest a hand on the back of his neck, a mirror of the one affectionate gesture Bruce could usually manage for his children.

Their eyes fluttered shut and they held the pose for several long breaths.

"Someone has to keep you workaholics from starving yourselves into an early grave," he murmured, his breath warming Bruce's numb face.

Bruce knew he wasn't just talking about Bruce, or even just Bruce and Dick, but Alfred as well. Alfred who after finishing with the duties he took up for batman would go about his self-imposed butler duties.

Alfred who was taking a much deserved night off now that Bruce's crusade was over. Or at least, now that this particular crusade was over.

And Jason didn't have to say any of that, in the same way Bruce hadn't had to say more than 'thank you'. It was understood.

Jason was the first to move away, lowering back into a more comfortable position.

"Eat your food old man."

With a significantly lighter heart Bruce did just that, comfortable with gaze of his son on him.

Once he was done Jason took his dishes and deposited them in the sink.

"Okay, bedtime." he cooed, his voice just this side of mocking.

But Bruce was too tired to rise to the bait, nodding tiredly in agreement.

Jason frowned, false cheer sobering as he came around to grip his arm. He was uncharacteristically gentle as he helped Bruce from the stool and led him towards his bedroom.

For his part Bruce couldn't remember why he should resist this, too exhausted to care about hiding his weaknesses. To pretend he was invincible.

Jason shut the door behind them, flicking on the light.

"Are you going to tuck me in too?" Bruce managed to drag up enough energy to attempt at some humor.

The younger man snorted, "Maybe I will."

He moved closer, reaching down to tug at Bruce's belt loops. "Come on old man, don't make me undress you too."

Bruce huffed but undid the clasp on his pants and let them pool at his ankles.

He stepped out of them, kicking off his shoes in the process.

Before he could move on to his shirt Jason was in his space, nimble fingers moving over his buttons.

Bruce's hands fell back to his sides, watching through his lashes as Jason undid his shirt.

He wasn't wearing an undershirt, having been too sore to lift his arms in the motion that would have required.

As such, once his shirt was unbuttoned Jason had a full view of the damage he'd endured.

Jason sucked in a rattling breath, fingers tracing over the purple and green bruises littering his ribs and sides.

"That alien sure could pack a punch, huh?"

"Superman," Bruce corrected, more sharp than he'd intended.

Jason snorted but otherwise ignored the correction as he gently eased the rest of the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.

Stripped down to just his boxers and socks, Bruce watched as Jason moved to turn down the bed.

He patted the bed once he was done. "Do you want me to tuck you in or not?"

Bruce exhaled, knowing Jason could read the amusement behind it, and complied.

He gingerly crawled onto the bed, trying to find a position that didn't put any pressure on his ribs.

Meanwhile Jason's gaze had found the array of pill bottles littering his beside table.

"Do you need to take any of these tonight?" he asked, his tone deceptively neutral.

Bruce shook his head in denial. Jason gave him a look but didn't press it, leaving him with the feeling the younger vigilante would be checking the names and looking their information up later.

He was too tired to care.

Jason adjusted the blankets around him, tucking him in just as he'd threatened.

Once he was done he lingered for a second, staring at where his hands rested over Bruce's chest.

Without a word he straightened and moved towards the door.

For the umpteenth time that night Bruce found himself struggling for the right words, to bridge the rift between them.

"Don't go," he repeated, using the same words as before. They'd worked once after all.

Jason froze, one hand on the light switch and the other on the door knob. Practically halfway gone already.

When, unlike earlier, he didn't turn back Bruce closed his eyes in silent resignation.

Unable to watch Jason, his son, walk out of the room and out of his life. He wasn't sure he could bear watching the back of him leave.

There was a click and the lights flickered off.

Bruce sunk further into his pillows, fighting back the pit of despair.

He deserved this, he'd never been able to do right by the people who mattered most to him. He failed them at every turn.

Dick, Alfred, and perhaps Jason most of all.

When the click of the light wasn't followed by the door opening and shutting he didn't dare hope.

When he could hear someone shuffle through the room, he held his breath.

When the bed shifted under him and a weight joined him he let a trickle of hope in.

The figure settled near him, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth of him.

And still Bruce couldn't open his eyes, terrified his exhausted mind was playing tricks on him.

"Bruce, open your eyes."

He did, turning his head to face Jason.

Jason who had stripped down to boxers and his t-shirt, and who was sprawled across the bed in a deliberately relaxed manner.

The knot in his chest eased at Jason's slight smile. Not a smirk, or a sneer, but a small genuine smile.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Bruce shifted just a little closer, a minuscule difference only one of them would notice, and let his eyes fall close again. This time the gesture was entirely different.

And between one breath and the next, to the music of his son's breathing, he fell asleep.

* * *

When Bruce awoke, not in a jolt of adrenaline but in a gradual awareness he hadn't managed in years, he registered two things.

One. He'd shifted in the night to curl protectively around Jason, who had curled into a ball. Two. There was someone else in the room with them.

He cracked open an eye, huffing when he saw who it was.

Sprawled in an armchair that had been tugged closer to the bed was none other than his first son. His first Robin.

Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

Said son's head was tilted back, mouth open as he snored.

In his arms Jason shifted, burying his face into the blankets.

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

Bruce fought down a snicker. Jason had never been a morning person. None of them were, if he was being honest, even Alfred was only good at it due to years of long practice and discipline.

Secure in the knowledge his sons were asleep and thus couldn't see it, Bruce smiled and curled tighter around Jason. Relishing the weight of him in his arms, uncaring of the pressure it was putting on his ribs.

He must have fallen back asleep because in the space of a blink Dick was gone, the armchair abandoned.

If Bruce hadn't been able to hear a third set of breathing in the room he would have jolted out of bed and likely sent Jason tumbling to the floor.

Thankfully he did hear it, and soon a few other key sensations registered in his sleep addled brain.

Namely the warmth behind him and the weight of an arm thrown over him.

He glanced down, confirming the arm was Dick's, the hand attached to the arm reaching just far enough to rest on Jason's shoulder.

More awake this time Bruce lay still, too alert to go back to sleep but loathe to disturb his sons' rest.

It wasn't often these days the three of them were in the same space without masks. And certainly not this close and unguarded.

He fully intended to soak in the moment, to memorize the feeling, but he must have shifted. Tensed his muscles or changed his breathing because Dick shifted behind him.

"Bruce?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

In answer he moved one of his hands to cover Dick's where it was still resting on Jason.

Dick huffed, his breath tickling the back of his neck. "Can you go back to sleep?"

"I doubt it," he answered, his voice just as quiet.

For a moment Dick didn't answer.

"I would have been here sooner, but the news had people in Bludhaven and Gotham panicking. Me and Babs had our hands full trying to keep the peace."

Bruce craned his neck, attempting to see Dick's face without jostling Jason unduly.

"I understand," he said once he'd twisted enough to meet Dick's azure gaze.

Dick nodded jerkily, relaxing back into the covers. He shifted closer, his chest rubbing Bruce's back.

The three of them, none of them small, should have made the bed feel crowded. Should have had them overheating from the proximity.

Instead Bruce had never felt more comfortable.

Assured that they were good Bruce let his head fall back into a more comfortable position.

Dick, however, wasn't done yet.

"Babs kept me up to date," he started cautiously.

Bruce hummed.

"Sounds like you had a hell of a fight, are you okay?" Dick asked, his tone giving away that he knew he was treading in unsafe waters with that question.

Ignoring the spirit of the question, Bruce answered the rule of it.

"Just a little bruised. We've all had worse."

Dick was silent for a moment, before: "And mentally?"

Bruce closed his eyes, he'd hoped Dick would let that omission go as he had so many other times.

It figured his oldest would pick now to start insisting he share the things he clearly didn't want to.

Part of him wanted to blow him off, to either not answer him or give him a false answer.

But the part of him that was aware of how far he'd spiraled in the last year without him and Jason to keep him in check, rebelled at the thought of doing anything that might push them away.

So he didn't.

"I'm… exhausted."

It was an honest answer if not an elaborate one. He didn't know how else to explain the bone deep tiredness he'd developed in the last week.

Dick, though, was appeased enough not to press the issue.

Bruce closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He hadn't been lying when he said he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, but he could easily fall into a meditative state.

He'd only just cleared his mind and begun to drift when Dick shifted behind him again. "Babs updated my suit y'know. Nothing crazy, some new kevlar and protection. She's still trying to convince me to add a cape, but I'm holding out."

Bruce released a breath, too controlled to be the sigh it wanted to be.

"Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Go back to sleep."

There was a moment of silence before, "But I'm wide awake now."

Jason grunted, making his presence known. "Stop being a brat Dickie, some of us don't get to sleep in beds often."

From the way Jason stiffened immediately after speaking, Bruce knew he hadn't meant to share that last part. Which meant he likely wasn't exaggerating.

While Bruce sought around for an answer, an appropriate one that wasn't simply demanding Jason stay here, Dick had no such trouble.

Proving his acrobat background wasn't for nothing he gripped Bruce's shoulder and vaulted over him. Unfortunately, Jason was close to the edge and Dick had to flop on top of him or risk overshooting and missing the bed.

The resulting tangle of limbs had Jason squawking and elbowing Bruce in the gut.

Bruce groaned, his arm trapped between his sons keeping him from rolling away.

"What the hell?" Jason grumbled once he regained his ability to speak. Bruce was still trying to catch his breath after having it summarily knocked out of him.

Repentant, Dick was not.

"If you don't have a bed to sleep in, Jason, you come to me. Or Bruce. Neither of us would begrudge you a safe place to sleep." He said, the seriousness of his words contrasting the ridiculous position they were in.

Jason struggled, trying to push Dick off.

Bruce used the arm till stuck between them to pin his arms to his side. He wanted to do more than just stop Jason from pushing Dick away, to say something, to offer Jason a haven. But he didn't know if he had the right to.

And maybe it was that desire, or maybe it was the exhaustion from the last few days, but he found the words.

"As long as I'm here, you both have a place here."

Dick and Jason broke their staring contest, turning identical incredulous looks on him. For all that they weren't related by blood, sometimes it was really hard to tell. They were often mistaken for actual blood brothers, especially when they made the same expression.

He deserved that look he knew, their disbelief. Maybe not at the idea, but that he'd actually communicated it verbally and in no uncertain terms.

Jason coughed, uncomfortable with the emotions going on in the room.

"That's… quite a mouthful from you Bruce," he observed.

Dick swatted at him, angry he'd ruined the moment. But Bruce knew that it wasn't a brush off, and just nodded. Accepting the unspoken acknowledgment of his offer in a way that saved both his and Jason's pride.

Considering the conversation done, Jason bucked his hips and sent Dick flying off the bed.

Dick yelped, hitting the floor with a thud.

Jason smirked.

"So breakfast?"

* * *

At this point Bruce was not at all surprised to find both Alfred and Barbara waiting for them in the kitchen. Alfred was standing over the stove while Barbara was sitting at one end of the kitchen table.

Bruce leaned against the wall of the entryway and watched as Jason and Dick entered.

Jason bee-lined for the coffee, grabbing one of the mugs Alfred had sitting out beside it. Alfred sent him a fond look and Bruce knew if the older man was more demonstrative with his affection, he'd be ruffing Jason's hair.

Dick moved to Barbara, grasping the handles of her wheelchair and stretching up on the balls of his feet to bend over her and press an upside down kiss to her forehead.

"Hey Babs," he greeted, moving to sit to her right. She didn't look up from her laptop but they could all see the smile stretching across her face.

By the time Dick had settled in his seat Jason had moved over to the table. He sat down, pushing one of two coffee mugs over to Dick who received it with a grateful smile.

Alfred clicked his tongue at Bruce, "Shall you be joining your children anytime soon."

For all that it was phrased as a sentence, and sounded like a statement (Alfred was seemingly incapable of the upward inflection that usually accompanied a question) it was actually an order.

Bruce knew better than to argue, accepting his own mug of coffee from Alfred as he passed him.

He settled in the open chair across from Barbara.

She glanced up from her computer, the lighting from the screen making her glasses glint.

"Good morning Bruce."

He nodded, taking a careful sip of his coffee.

Dick reached over and tapped some random keys on Barbara's laptop, dodging the resulting swats she aimed at him. Jason rolled his eyes, but Bruce could see the smile he hid behind his mug.

The domesticity of the scene hit him, it was such a rare thing for them. They'd all come into his life in stages without overlapping much until they'd all moved on. Dick, Jason, and Barbara hadn't truly bonded until they were all out and working independently. Dick as Nightwing, Jason as the Red Hood and Barbara as Oracle with her team of birds.

Bonding over their resentment of him perhaps, bonding over being the only ones who knew what it was to have him as a mentor.

He looked down at his hands, the sound of their bickering falling to a comforting background noise.

Sometimes, in his most morbid moments, his relationships with each of them felt very one sided.

They were his children, but he wasn't their father.

Once, a year or so after taking Dick in he'd brought up adoption. For a multitude of reasons, for more security. To make their relationship more permanent.

Not to replace Dick's dead parents, but looking back he could see how Dick had seen it that way.

Dick... Hadn't taken it well. It had been the first time he'd run away from the manor, but not before yelling at Bruce. Making it very clear he'd never be his father. Alfred had been the one to find him and coax him home.

Bruce had never brought it up again.

With Jason he'd been too gun shy to bring it up, he'd been burned once already. And so he'd kept his feelings to himself, making sure to treat Jason as a protege, not a son.

That had backfired so spectacularly it wasn't even funny.

And Barbara... Well she had a very much alive father who outclassed Bruce in every way worth mentioning. He'd known from the very beginning that she'd be yet another child he could never fully claim.

Some days he could barely breathe with the pain of it.

But on days like this, when they were here despite him not being their father. When they checked on each other and ate Alfred's cooking and bickered to their hearts content...

He could fool himself into thinking he could have this

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo um this took more twists than I expected and got surprisingly angsty? Um. Sorry?
> 
> I mostly know these characters through the animated stuff and BvS so I hope I did justice to them and they're not wildly out of character


End file.
